


Cabin Uncomfort

by orphan_account



Category: Gay baby gang, The Misfits Podcast - Fandom
Genre: Body Horror, GBG - Freeform, Halloween, Haunted Houses, M/M, The Misfits, The Misfits Podcast, bc in this household we are valid, but thats ok, gay baby gang - Freeform, god this? a mess, how tf do i tag this huh uhhhh, swuckles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 10:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16474007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Mason has done stupid things. Lots of them. But when his best friend Viv suggests they visit that run-down cabin in the woods? He thinks he's gone absolutely insane.





	Cabin Uncomfort

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pointshootsmile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pointshootsmile/gifts).



“I don’t know about this, Viv.”

“One night. One night, and you don’t have to even fuckin’  _ breathe  _ in the direction of this place ever again!”

He sighed, an exhale that blew fog from his nose into the frozen air of October. He tugged on the hat on his head, pulling it over his ears and throwing the end of his scarf over his shoulder. He was amazed how Vivian was only in a pair of jeans, a short sleeve, a jean jacket, and a loose scarf. The cold breeze ran its fingers through his skin, a shiver clawing its way down his spine. Mason pulled his coat shut, shivering. He stared at the building in front of them.

“This is just a bad idea waiting to turn to absolute shit.”

“Shut up, Mason. Don’t knock it ‘till you try it.”

“This is some bullshit right out of a horror game, cunt! You’re fucked if you actually want to go in there!”

Viv turned from the porch and shrugged. “Guess I’m fucked.”

 

It was not a warm, welcoming sight. Not in the slightest. They were in the middle of the woods, the sun about to dip under the horizon. Mason faced Vivian, who stood on the rickety porch of the rotting cabin. Mason dug his boots into the crumbling leaves and huffed, a cloud of hot, visible breath floating from his lips and being tackled by the cold into a misty nothingness. The bare trees scratched at each other mindlessly, manipulated into a violent frenzy by the wind. The clouds of ash hung over the forest in a judging loom. 

“I’m not goin’ in there. You’re fucked.”

“Live a little, Macie!” Vivian groaned, lulling his head back and flailing his arms, defeated. “It’ll be no fun, you just standing out here in the cold and me in there!”

Mason crossed his arms stubbornly over his chest. Sure, he’s done stupid things. Plenty of them, plenty of times. But venturing carelessly into a cabin, most likely infested by demons and possums, was not one he wanted on the list.

Viv shoved his hands in his pocket, tapping a foot. “If you get scared, we can kiss,” he offered. Mason groaned, rolling his eyes. He trudged along the dusted path littered with dead leaves towards him. His boots pounded up the steps.

“Whatever, cunt. Let’s get it over with.”

 

Mason was the one to open the door. With a nudge of his foot, the wooden door creaked, its hinges screaming past the rust that infected the metal. The first room unfolded in front of them, the fleeting light of the sunrise melting past them, through the doorway. It was a simple living room, it seemed. A clawed-up couch covered in a layer of dust, destroyed by whatever animal had found its way inside. A rug sat in the middle of the room, littered with leaves and coated with mud and dirt. A fireplace huddled against the wall to their left, a crumbling stone relic with rotting logs, waiting for the spark of a flame to put them out of their long awaited misery. Picture frames and a vase of dead flowers slept on the mantel, but the frames were too aged to see the photos through the glass. Torn curtains held on for dear life to their rods, blocking the outside from peering in through the windows.

Viv stepped inside, planting his feet onto the rickety wooden floors. He inhaled through his nose, breaking out into a coughing fit. When he recovered, he wheezed out, “Ah, now that.. That’s refreshing! Love that, uh.. That dead, musky smell.”

“Seriously, Viv,” Mason warned, hesitantly following him in, “this could get us fucked. You have any ideas what’s in here?”

“Nope!”

“Well, neither do I! That’s why it’s a bad idea! We don’t know what the fuck we’re getting ourselves into!”

Vivian scoffed, turning around to look at him. He pulled down his scarf from over his mouth. “Oh, come the fuck on, Mason. What, you think there’s something in here? Something out in the woods watching us and our every move?” Mason nodded, with a look in his face that yelled  _ Uh, yeah, you fuckin’ cunt!  _ Viv continued, “There’s nothing around! It’s just a dead, old house. Nothing to be afraid of.”

Mason laughed sarcastically. “Yeah, what’s better than a dead house with dead things in it, with two future dead, stupid cunts!”

“Now, you’re just being overdramatic.”

 

Vivian offered that they split up to cover more ground. Mason instantly shot down the suggestion. He said it’d be better for both of their mental and physical health to stay together. Viv walked into the center of the timid living room, being trailed by footprints in the dust. He turned to face Mason, who stood still in the front doorway, and held out his hand to the boy. A tempting smile perked at the older’s lips, and he earned a sigh. Mason approached, intertwining their fingers and letting himself get dragged off into one of two rooms to the right. A battered kitchen unfolded in front of them, the roof caving in on itself from above. A refrigerator from, at most, the 1950s hid in the corner, tucked away beside crumbling countertops and teetering cabinets. Smashed dining ware scattered the floor, Mason pointing out the shards past the residue of many harsh years, so they wouldn’t step on them. Light fixtures dangled from the collapsing ceiling, hovering over their heads, observant and judgemental. It’s been long since electricity had flown through them, long since the spark of life. Viv continued on, Mason following him along.

 

The kitchen attached to a small bedroom. A bed was pushed against one of the walls. Clawed blankets and sheets hung from it as limp as a corpse, matching the condition of the living room couch. A bookshelf towered a few feet away from where the two stood in the doorway. It’s shelves were loaded with titles they didn’t recognize, leather spines cloaked in a thick, grey layer of dust. One of the higher shelves had been snapped, it’s contents having tumbled to the ground, dragging books from lower ones down with them. Mason stepped in, kicking at the worn rug on the ground.

“Sorta anticlimactic, eh, Viv?” Mason laughed. “Not expecting it to be this lame?” Vivian only shrugged, shoving his hands into his coat pockets as he surveyed the room. Paper peeled from the walls, exposing the rotting wood underneath. A painting stared at him from across the bedroom, a man with a butterfly in his hair that looked eerily similar. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he felt like he was being watched through the eyes of the butterfly man. He brushed his hair from his face.

“Not exactly, but granted, I didn’t  _ know _ what I was expecting.”

“Didn’t think to ask around?”

“No. I just figured there’d be more than three fucking rooms.”

 

Mason huffed, glancing away. He nudged a pile of books with his shoe. They were falling apart at their seams. His breath blew from his cold lips in a fog of air. “Why’d I have to get dragged here?”

“Because I tolerate you.”

“Thanks,” Mason replied, sarcasm lacing his voice, rolling his eyes. “But why couldn’t you take me on a date to a horror movie?”

“I know you get too scared even watching the trailers,” Viv interrupted.

“Or,” he glossed over Vivian’s remark, “we could’ve gone pranking little kiddies! Jumpin’ outta bushes with masks and stealin’ their candy!”

“We’d get our asses kicked if we got caught.”

“What about creepypastas?” He suggested, throwing his hands in tired defeat, turning back to look at the other. Viv looked back at him, still in the doorway of the bedroom. Mason kicked at the rug at his feet again. “We both love them! We could’ve been snuggled up, all nice ‘n’ warm ‘n’ comfy. Midnight reading spooky stories. What about  _ Candle Cove _ ? I know you love  _ Candle Cove. _ ”

“I do love it,” he admitted.

“Then why are we  _ here _ ?” Mason pressed on, stomping a foot and putting up his hands. His fists clenched; none of the dots in his head were connecting. “Why are we in this fucking house? This dead fucking house when we could be doin’ something we’d actually enjoy!” He stomped again, a sneaker kicking up the dirty rug, dust flying into the air. “A dead, abandoned, useless house with  _ nothing _ in it!” Another slam of his foot.

 

A heavy thud echoed beneath his sneaker. Both fell silent, staring at Mason’s feet. There was a ripple in the wooden planks that made up what was left of the floorboards. A nook was carved into the wood, a handle of some sort that wouldn’t stick out. The two looked up at each other, and Viv drifted over wordlessly. He sank to one knee, tugging at the makeshift grip. With stubborn bitterness, the trapdoor spat open, flinging dust into Vivian’s face, causing him to cough and duck away. When he looked back, he gazed into the shadows beneath. Mason peered over his shoulders.

Rickety stairs led into the black void of the cellar, awaiting their arrival. Viv looked up at Mason, who shrugged. Vivian pulled out his phone, turning on the flashlight and shining it down into the basement. They could barely see six feet in front of them. He stepped down, despite a shocked, warning noise from Mason, and made his way down the stairway. Mason groaned, covering his face with his hands, followed by an irritated screech into his palms. He climbed down into the cellar after Viv.

 

It was a typical old cellar, Vivian had to admit. Brick pillars supported the ceiling from collapsing over the years, though they, too, were beginning to deteriorate. It’d match the rest of the house, at least. Bare walls, stripped from paint or paper, exposing their stone surrounded them as they made their way down the flight of stairs. Wooden shelves filled the room they stood in, topped with various household items from old and weather worn toasters, to gardening tools, to boxes of tarnished silverware. A display of rings laid shattered on the ground, having fallen off of its wall hook. An outdated iron sat limp at the foot of the stairs. A pink blanket, its colour dead from years of ignorance, was hung over a shelving unit. Beside it, a box set of collectible milk glasses. Mason passed by a countertop of tools, running his fingers across a half-painted vase of pinks, blues, and yellows. Vivian spotted an instrument, it looked like. He dragged his sleeve across it to clear away the dust, creating a creaking sound from the decade-old guitar strings. 

“Christ, these motherfuckers had everything,” he muttered, running his fingers along the delicate yet falling apart wood of the guitar. He heard Mason laugh, followed by the clanging of metal. He glanced over his shoulder when Mason called out,

“Oh, you bet, everything!” Vivian let out a cackle when he saw Mason wielding a rusted sword. The boy swung it at a cotton mannequin a few feet away, biting out a slice from the body’s stitching. 

“Put that down before you kill something,” Viv chuckled.

“Oh, c’mon. I’d trip you if we had to run up the stairs,” Mason taunted, sheathing the sword back into the metal bin he’d found it in.

 

The light from Vivian’s phone flashed in the direction of a doorway in the brick, and Mason nodded towards it before heading in. Viv jogged slightly to catch up with him.

“You suddenly seem very willing to walk around a house like this,” Viv pointed out.

“When you swing ‘round a sword, you get cocky, mate.”

“But, Macie, a basement no less?”

“What about it?”

“Wouldn’t you agree that a basement of an abandoned house is  _ way _ worse than the rest of it?” Viv’s light cascaded through the room. The ceiling had fallen in one corner, bringing down a few extra shelving units with it. Two large tanks towered in another corner, metal monsters, humming with anticipation despite the lifeless shell they resided in. A warmth enveloped them as they stepped into the room, a sudden change from the freezing fall weather. Mason rubbed at his arms.

“Is this it?” he asked, turning to Viv, who still surveyed the boiler room with his light.

“Guess so,” was the reply.

 

One of the boilers let out a thud, and the two stopped to stare at it. Vivian spoke out, asking if anyone was there. Mason slapped his arm, only to be waved away and dismissed. Viv took a step forward, leaning to look around the wide sides of the tank. He reached out, his hand fumbling in the air before it took a hold of Mason’s jacket, yanking on it. Mason hissed at him, but fell silent when he spotted the cause of the other’s alarm.

A person. A small girl, to be specific. Her frail figure, thin and bone, cowered in the corner behind the boilers. The white dress that clung to her form was tattered and dirty, covered in soot. Her greasy black hair fell from her shoulders. The girl sat with her back to the boys, her knees curled up to her chest. 

Mason tried to pull Viv back. This was bad. He’d seen enough cheesy, cliche horror flicks to know that. He took Vivian by the sleeve and tried to bring him away from the boilers, but only to be shrugged off and waved away again. He didn’t seem to see the dread in the situation. “Hi there?” Viv said, more a question than a greeting. “I, uh.. My friends call me Vivian. Are you lost, or.. Or hurt? Do you need help?” The girl stirred, and Viv lowered himself to a crouch. “We’re not here to hurt you.”

_ Yeah, but she might be here to hurt us, _ Mason thought bitterly. He tugged on Viv’s sleeve again, leaning in to whisper, “Dude, let’s go. Doubt she’ll even look at us.”

 

It was then that the girl turned. Her head moved slowly in stiff movements, turning to look over her shoulder at them in a jagged motion. Vivian stepped back when she stared at them, pressing himself against Mason. Hollow and empty eye sockets gazed at them as her head turned around completely. Mason gripped Vivian’s arm and shot in a look that told him,  _ Aw, now ya’ve done it, cunt.  _ The two took a step back, Viv’s shaking hand still trying to focus the light on the.. Whatever it was.

Her body moved without her. While her head stayed in one position, staring lifelessly at them, her body cracked and spun over to be on her hands and knees. They listened to her dead bones snap and the skin crinkle and flake from her body. They could only watch in horror as her nails dug themselves into the brick and she scaled the wall, climbing onto the boiler. Viv could barely see her disappear behind the pipes, and another tug on his sleeve was enough to get him moving. As the two stumbled back, Mason listened as the metal tanks wheezed and coughed, a pained laughter at their retreat. A demonic growl was heard somewhere behind the pipes, and with shaking legs, they ran as an hand reached out to throw its claws at them. It dragged it’s nails along Mason’s fleeing arm.  


 

Followed by scraping claws against metal and brick, they leapt up the stairs two at a time. Once they were both up, Mason kicked the trapdoor shut. Vivian dragged over the bookshelf, pushing it over to lay on top of the door. Thoughts spun through his head as he ran a dusty hand through his hair, but he didn’t have much time to think.

 

The collar of his jacket was yanked forward and he was pulled into an awkward kiss. Mason’s lips fumbled against his, desperate hands clinging to his clothing. When Mason pulled back, teary-eyed and panting, Viv scrambled to find words.

“I.. Mason, what the fuck was that?”

The other boy only shrugged with a horrified look on his face, still hanging on to Vivian’s jacket. “You said if I got scared we could kiss.”

“You’re scared?” Viv asked, but not in a mocking way. In a way that was meant to seem welcoming and comforting. Odd, despite the place they stood in.

“Cunt, I’m fuckin’ terrified!” Was the reply, an anxious laugh lacing the words. Vivian nodded, eyes watching Mason’s face, from his eyes to his cheeks to his lips. His gaze fell to look down at the fallen bookshelf they stood over. He pulled on Mason’s coat when he heard something clawing at the wooden stairs beneath the floorboards.

“Yeah, I, uh.. I am too. Let’s.. How about we get out of here?” Viv offered, though he knew the obvious answer. “My place, creepypasta binge?”

A smile cracked Mason’s frown. “Yeah, please.” Mason eagerly took Vivian’s hand, pulling him out of the bedroom, into the living room, and out onto the porch.

“We can kiss more at my place, too, so that’s a bonus.”

“Oh, shut up, Viv.”

Again, his collar was yanked forwards, and their lips met again. Viv grinned against the kiss and shut his eyes. Mason pressed himself against him, snaking his arms around Vivian’s waist to hold him close. Viv’s hands rested on Mason’s shoulders, one eventually entangling his fingers in his hair. They pulled apart and Viv rested his head against Mason’s chest.

He couldn’t hear a heartbeat. 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween everyone! uwu


End file.
